Chapter 4
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Spike said as he pushed the tape into the VCR/tv combo he’d found in the office. Buffy was curled up in one of the sleeping bags, the sound of her breathing letting him know she was asleep. He spent a few precious moments watching her, reliving the kiss that they had shared earlier. He’d called himself every kind of fool for not taking what she was offering. But Spike couldn’t stand to be used again. He’d told her once, that day she had shown up at his crypt invisible, if he couldn’t have all of her, then he didn’t want any of her. He just wished he’d been able to stick to it back then. Things might’ve turned out differently for them.
Leaning back against the wall, Spike smoked his cigarette as the events unfolded on the screen. He had a meeting the next night, and he wanted to have all the information he could.
The brunette Slayer stepped into a circular, steel cage. The cage was surrounded by a well dressed crowd of people that were screaming for blood. Faith flashed them a wide smile. Turning in a circle, her arms extended out, she flipped them off. Her lush, curvy body was encased in a white tank top, and a pair of dark leather pants. Her wild mane of dark hair fell free around her shoulders. Dropping her arms, she leaned against the side of the cage, waiting for her opponent to enter.
When the demon stepped through the gate opposite her, her expression of boredom never changed. Spike didn’t recognize the breed it was. It towered over the small woman. *Why were Slayers always so small?* Spike wondered. It’s body was covered in heavy, armored plates, and spines about six inches long lined its back. Two huge eyes dominated its skull like head. An almost nonexistent nasal passage sat under those and atop two rubbery lips. When it opened its mouth to roar, Spike got a good look at its two rows of razor like teeth.
Faith tapped a hand against her open mouth, feigning a yawn while the thing roared at her. Apparently it didn’t like to be mocked, because it swung one massive hand at her. Faith ducked effortlessly, and kicked out with her foot, smashing it into its knee.
“Slow bastard.” Spike mumbled, as he watched it lumber around the cage. Faith’s size and enhanced Slayer speed gave her a good advantage. She dodged the demon easily, pounding it with her fists and feet. She was careful to avoid the spines on its back.
Spike found himself enjoying watching her fight. Almost as much as he liked to watch Buffy. But whereas Buffy always felt her calling was a burden, Faith fought with a gleeful ferocity that rivaled most demons, including Spike.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Buffy asked, settling down next to him. Spike had been so caught up in watching Faith cut down the demon, that he hadn’t heard her move.
“What’re you doing awake, Pet?’
“Dreams,” was all she said, as Faith dealt the death blow to her opponent. Flipping off the crowd again, she tossed her hair and stalked out of the cage. “She really loved slaying. Got off on it. I never really understood where she was coming from.”
“That’s because you always kept a tight reign on yourself. Treated it like a job, instead of part of who you were.” Spike told her, dropping his burnt out cigarette into an empty soda can.
“I could never accept the dark.” She mumbled, watching the screen as Faith took out her second opponent. It was a master vampire, that looked like a Nordic Prince.
“Seems I remember sayin’ something similar to you, luv.” Buffy nodded, her eyes meeting his for a second before returning to the tv. The Nordic vamp hadn’t been much trouble. A couple of high kicks and a punch to the face stunned him enough for Faith to twist his head from his shoulders. Faith dusted her hands off as the vampire debris floated around her.
“You were right. But I was so afraid of getting lost. Like Faith. She had such a knack for this. But she was so troubled. I guess I didn’t make it any easier. I guess none of us did. She was so jealous of me. My mom, my watcher, my friends. Angel.” Tears misted Buffy’s eyes as she watched the next demon take an ax in its back. Three matches down, seven more til Faith’s death.
“I wouldn’t have let you get lost, Buffy,” his voice was quiet, and he reached up to stroke a hand over her long, dark hair.
“I know that now. It took me a long time to realize that. I’m sorry.” A tear slipped down her cheek as she looked at him. His blue eyes searched her face before he let go of his tightly bound emotions and drew her into his arms. He held her tight as she let the flood gates open and cried out all the pain she’d held bottled up since Willow tore her out of Heaven.
Buffy awoke several hours later, stiff from her curled up position against the wall. The last thing she remembered, was being cradled in Spike’s arms as she cried. She smiled slightly at the memory, then glanced around the room. The tv was gone, and Spike was not around. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was past four p.m.
“Spike?” she called, her voice rough from tears and sleep.
“Right here, Pet.” Pushing the sleeping bag off, Buffy rose to her feet and walked towards the kitchenette. Rubbing her eyes, she stepped into the room, and couldn’t suppress the chuckle that bubbled from her lips.
Spike was standing in front of the counter, a cup of blood in his left hand, the other braced against the counter. He was barefoot and shirtless, his white hair trailing across his pale shoulders. A beautiful sight to see, save for the menacing glare he was directing at the coffee pot.
The offending device was sputtering and hissing as if this pot of coffee was its last gift to the world.
At her chuckles, Spike turned his glare on her, then back to the pot.
“Why do these thing take so bloody long?” he grumbled, taking a drink from his mug.
“It’s a conspiracy?” she offered. Stepping next to him in the small space, the machine gave one last sputtering hiss before falling silent. “See, it’s done.”
“Finally.” Spike reached into a cabinet and handed Buffy a mug, before pulling out another for himself. Draining the blood in three long gulps, he rinsed out the cup while she poured them both coffee. Buffy put sugar and cream in hers, while Spike pulled out a frozen breakfast for her.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, taking a sip of the hot brew. He just raised his scarred eyebrow at her and pushed the time on the microwave. Then he picked up his own coffee and started to drink.
“I have to go out for a while,” he told her. Her eyes shot up to his, her brows drawn together in confusion.
“Why?” Her heart started to thud in her chest as irrational fear slammed into her.
“Nothing like that. I will be back. I just have to take care of something I couldn’t get done last night.” He said, hearing her heart start to slow as she calmed. Dropping her eyes, sheepishly, she nodded as the microwave dinged behind him. He pulled out the meal, and set it on the table.
“Sit. Eat,” was all he said, before pouring himself another cuppa and stalking out of the kitchen. Buffy stuck her tongue out at his retreating back, but sat down and started to eat.
“Alright, luv. Let’s see where you are physically. Then we can figure out where to go from there.” Spike said, settling into a fighting stance in front of her. He had just returned from whatever mysterious errand he had to run, and was revved to get started. Buffy nodded, mimicking his posture. She was still wearing her sports bra and capri pants from the night before, but had taken the time to twist her hair into a thick braid.
Waiving a hand, Spike indicated that he wanted her to attack first. He then proceeded to just block, not throwing any punches of his own. She still had her Slayer strength. Could feel it humming behind every punch and kick she threw at him. But she was holding back.
“Come on, Slayer. I’m not Captain Cardboard. Let go.” Breathing heavy, Buffy came at him again. She still wasn’t putting everything behind her punches.
“What a pity,” he started, ducking under a kick. “A washed up Slayer. Suppose I ought to kill you now, and save those blokes at the tournament the trouble. Wouldn’t be much of a challenge for them, anyway. A waste of their time, really.” That did it. Buffy felt anger surge through her like only Spike could invoke. As he went to block another punch, Buffy anticipated, feinted left and smashed her tiny fist into his nose.
Spike landed on the mats, one hand cupped over his bleeding nose. *Bloody hell! Why is it always the fucking nose?*
Buffy was on him in a space of a heartbeat, straddling his waist, her fist pulled back. Just as she was about to let it fly, a memory surged forward. It was of another time she was in this position, in a dark, dirty alley. Her fist flying in his face over and over, saying through clenched teeth “I’ll never be your girl.”
A cry ripped from her throat as she thought of how she’d left him, broken and bloody on the cold asphalt.
Buffy dropped her fist and crawled away from him. Spike rolled up to a standing position, absently wiping the blood away with the back of his hand.
“Slayer?” He watched as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and started to rock. “Buffy?” He crouched in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees. Her wide, hazel eyes met his questioning blue ones.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?” he asked, confused. She’d only been doing what he’d told her to do. What did she have to be sorry for?
“For what I did in that alley. For everything I said.” Realization rushed through Spike as the memory of that night flooded back.
“Buffy. I forgave you for that a long time ago.” He told her quietly. Buffy’s expression grew incredulous at his words.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
Buffy nodded slowly, because she did indeed know why. “I’m not going to use you again,” she said, her words taking on several different meanings.
“I’m not going to let you,” he returned. Holding a hand out to her, Spike stood, pulling her with him. “Now, you still have your strength, and your form is still good. But you need to stop pulling your punches. I won’t break, and I won’t let you hurt me. So let go of that, alright, Pet?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now, shall we dance, luv?” a slow, wicked smile spread across his features. Buffy returned his smile, preparing to attack again.
“Absolutely.”